


What We Deserve

by Pseudonymoose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker Are Not Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29159403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonymoose/pseuds/Pseudonymoose
Summary: As a Jedi, Anakin wasn't meant to care about his birthday.As a Jedi, Obi-Wan wasn't meant to care about Anakin. Not knowing what he knew now.He cares anyway.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128
Collections: SW Especially Satisfying Stories





	What We Deserve

Walking barefoot down the corridors of a _Venator_ -class Star Destroyer was not something Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever imagined himself doing.

He must have stood in something caustic somewhere along the line, some slow acting substance that liked the taste of rubber. All he knew for certain was that his boots had been fine when he’d put them on that morning, but before he’d even reached the turbolift to the bridge, one sole was flapping about and the other was three steps behind him. He’d thrown them into the nearest disposal chute, turned tail, and headed back to his quarters to fetch a new pair.

A trio of helmetless clones passed him. He danced nimbly out of their way, trying not to get trodden on. The clone at the rear gave him a funny look. Obi-Wan wished him a good morning.

It was lucky that this had happened on the _Negotiator_ , where he had a spare pair of boots in his size. One of the problems with having a clone army was that the quartermasters only stocked footwear to fit Jango Fett.

Obi-Wan paused in the middle of a corridor. There weren’t so many clones in this area of the ship, and he was able to let his nonchalant act drop. His quarters were just up ahead. Unfortunately, there was a problem. Anakin was still in the cabin. Obi-Wan could sense him in the force.

Anakin should have been gone by now, off to make the most of hyperspace to train Ahsoka. Why he remained was a mystery, and a very inconvenient one. If Anakin saw Obi-Wan like this, he’d never let him forget it. No doubt Anakin would hear about it anyway through the clone grapevine, but it would be much worse for Obi-Wan in the long run if Anakin actually _saw_ him.

No solution presented itself. There was nothing for it. Obi-Wan straightened and opened the door to his quarters, hoping that Anakin would somehow fail to notice his pale, freezing toes.

The room was dark, except for the blue light of a hologram. Obi-Wan could make out Anakin sitting cross-legged on the bunk, talking to a ghostly Padmé Amidala. Both turned their heads toward him.

“What are you doing back here?” Anakin asked.

“This is my cabin, Anakin,” he answered. The door slid closed. “It might be more appropriate for me to ask why you are still in it.” He inclined his head to Padmé’s image. “Senator Amidala.”

“Master Kenobi,” she said, amusement in her voice. Obi-Wan started hunting for his spare boots.

“Well, I think it’s obvious why I’m here,” Anakin said behind him. “I’m talking to Padmé.”

“Oddly enough, I had worked that much out, Anakin.” Obi-Wan knelt and flicked the latches off a packing crate. “Put a light on, would you?”

“Use a torch,” Anakin said. “Like I said, I’m talking to Padmé. What are you looking for?”

Obi-Wan ignored him. “Do you usually talk to members of the Republic Senate in the pitch black?”

“When my holoprojector’s on the blink, yes,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan didn’t need his force sensitivity to feel his annoyance. “I’ll ask again; what are you looking for?”

“Never you mind.”

Anakin muttered under his breath. Something landed next to Obi-Wan with a clunk. “Use that,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan picked up the mysterious object. Anakin’s lightsaber. “What exactly am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.

“I find it helps if you turn it on.”

Obi-Wan did so. More blue light illuminated the contents of the crate in front of him, confirming his suspicions: two pairs of boots. One pair for him; one for Anakin. It was a pity that their feet weren’t the same size. He set about trying to determine which were his. The torch in the nightstand would make the job easier, but he refused to give Anakin the satisfaction.

“I could have used my own lightsaber, you know,” Obi-Wan said.

“And I could have thrown mine at you, instead of to you,” Anakin replied.

The sound of a throat being cleared. “I think I should be going,” Padmé said. “I’ve a meeting with Bail Organa in half an hour.”

“Sorry, Padmé,” Anakin said. “Tell Threepio I said hi.”

“I will.”

“And…” Anakin hesitated. Obi-Wan frowned at the boot in his hand. “Thanks for calling. I appreciate it.”

“That’s okay, Ani. Happy birthday.”

The call cut off, leaving the Jedi in silence. Obi-Wan flicked the switch on Anakin’s lightsaber and plunged them fully into darkness.

Anakin’s birthday.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Anakin began.

Obi-Wan span on his knees. “No, you don’t.” Anakin was nothing more than a silhouette in the red-tinged emergency lighting. “I didn’t know that you…”

“What, that I had a birthday?” Anakin snorted. “Everyone has a birthday.”

“I don’t,” Obi-Wan said, his mouth moving ahead of his brain.

“Sure. I forgot Jedi just spawn spontaneously from the force.” Bitterness tainted the sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Obi-Wan said, sliding back into the role of teacher without meaning to. “It’s not the Jedi way to celebrate the day of one’s birth.”

“See, I _knew_ that was what you were going to say.” The silhouette morphed, and the cabin lights came on. Obi-Wan blinked at the brightness.

“Really, Anakin, I don’t know why you’re being like this.” Now illuminated, Anakin’s look of disdain was difficult to ignore, but Obi-Wan made the attempt. “It was explained to you years ago; you accepted it.”

“No, I just made you think I did.”

Anakin hadn’t meant to say that. Obi-Wan could see it in the hard set of his shoulders, the tightening around his mouth.

There was once a time when Obi-Wan would have pressed him. Hammered the lesson home. The danger of indulging in selfhood, the path it could open to selfishness. For a Jedi, it was a path that wound onwards into night.

Kneeling on the floor of his cabin, his former Padawan on his bed, the bed they had woken up in together, Obi-Wan was acutely aware that he was no longer in any position to give such a lecture. He released his misgivings to the force and held out Anakin’s lightsaber.

Anakin eyed it warily, but took it. He tapped an ungloved metal finger against the emitter. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Obi-Wan decided to let him change the subject, remembering too late that he’d been trying to keep his predicament to himself. “Yes and no,” he said.

Anakin spotted the small collection of footwear Obi-Wan had amassed on the floor. “Boots?”

“I can’t tell which are yours and which are mine. They’re all black.”

“Don’t go blaming me,” Anakin said, coming to kneel beside him. His relief that no lecture seemed forthcoming was clear. “I’m not the one who ordered them.”

“Why would I have ordered myself a pair of _black_ boots?”

Anakin shrugged. “Stealth?” He picked up a boot and peered at it. “Shouldn’t they have sizes written on them?”

“Most likely,” Obi-Wan said, “but I couldn’t very well see in the dark. Or using a lightsaber blade.”

“I did tell you to use a torch,” Anakin grumbled. He cast the boot aside and picked up another one. “What do you need them for, anyway? Thinking of changing up your wardrobe?”

Obi-Wan realised that he was only delaying the inevitable and gave up. “If you must know,” he said stiffly, “my old pair was no longer up to standard.”

“Past tense, huh?” Anakin raised an eyebrow. His gaze drifted pointedly to where Obi-Wan’s legs were angled away from him, ankles and feet hidden from view. Obi-Wan started to press closer to the packing crate, but Anakin put a hand on his thigh. “Watch it. I might get the impression you’re trying to hide something from me.”

Obi-Wan scowled at him, but stopped the charade. He batted Anakin away and sat down properly, swinging his feet in front of him. Anakin snickered.

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan told him, which had the opposite effect. Anyone would think Anakin had never seen a pair of feet before.

“What happened?”

“The soles of my boots fell off,” Obi-Wan said. “I had to throw them away.”

Anakin reached for his feet, raising his hands as if to a rampaging blurrg when Obi-Wan immediately pulled them back. “Woah, I’m not going to do anything.”

“My feet are cold enough without your hands on them, than you very much,” Obi-Wan said. He saw Anakin’s right hand twitch, and relented. “Sorry.”

Anakin shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I get it. Really, I—” He broke off as Obi-Wan shoved his feet into his lap.

Obi-Wan wiggled his toes. “Do you want them or not?”

Anakin curved his left hand around Obi-Wan’s right foot. It was warm. Obi-Wan’s spine tingled.

“You weren’t kidding about them being cold,” Anakin said.

“You try walking across half a ship’s worth of metal flooring in bare feet, and see how you get on,” Obi-Wan said.

“So that’s why they’re so filthy,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan kicked him. “It may have escaped your notice, Anakin, but I do have _two_ feet.”

“Oh, I noticed.” He went to transfer his left hand to Obi-Wan’s left foot, and Obi-Wan kicked him again. That wouldn’t do.

Anakin got the message. Uncertainly, he touched the skeletal fingers of his right hand to the top of Obi-Wan’s foot, growing bolder when Obi-Wan didn’t flinch or pull away. It was cold, but Obi-Wan could endure it. More important that Anakin be reassured that the prosthetic didn’t bother him. It was Obi-Wan’s fault he had it, after all; if Obi-Wan had only trained harder, protected him better—

“Hey.” Anakin dropped Obi-Wan’s foot and brought his flesh hand to Obi-Wan’s cheek, thumb grazing his beard. His metal fingers slid up to Obi-Wan’s ankle.

Obi-Wan met Anakin’s eyes. The knot inside him untied. He took Anakin’s hand in his, passing it across his lips before letting go.

Anakin patted his ankle. “Let’s get these boots on you.”

“You’ve worked out which are mine, then?” Obi-Wan glanced at the pile.

“Nope,” Anakin said. “You’ll have to try them on.”

Anakin made to guide Obi-Wan’s foot into one of the boots, as if Obi-Wan were some maiden in a children’s story. Obi-Wan tugged the boot away and did it himself. By some miracle, it fit.

Anakin passed him its pair. “Maybe you should walk around a bit. Check that they fit okay.”

“It’s a bit late if they don’t, Anakin.” Obi-Wan stood up and shifted his weight from foot to foot, considering. “The soles could do with more cushioning, but at this point I’m only grateful they’re attached.” He looked down at Anakin, still kneeling on the floor. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Always happy to help,” Anakin said. He scooped up the remaining boots and placed them back in the packing crate with more care than Obi-Wan thought was warranted. He also wasn’t making the expected song and dance about the whole thing. No longer distracted, Obi-Wan’s thoughts turned back to the bantha that Padmé had brought into the room.

The Jedi didn’t acknowledge birthdays, as a rule. Occasionally an individual might make an exception for another, but it did not sit well with the tenets of the Order. The true exception, the Padawan ritual, was more about quiet reflection and Master-Padawan bonding. It was an exercise in letting go of self-interest, in comprehending the interconnectedness of the force. The gift Obi-Wan had given Anakin in his turn had symbolised that: a force-sensitive stone, passed down from his own Master on the occasion of his own ritual. After that day, Anakin had never again mentioned his birthday, as was right.

“Anakin, about today—”

“Shouldn’t you be getting to the bridge?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t fond of the way Anakin’s upper body had tensed. “I’m not going to lecture you,” he said.

“Then drop it.” Anakin closed the crate. “I know what the Code says. I know what the Jedi think. Nothing you have to say is going to change anything.”

Obi-Wan took a step towards him. “What do you mean? Are you saying you want to… to celebrate, or something?” It was baffling, and firmly against what Obi-Wan had been raised to believe, but Anakin had been unusually old when he’d entered the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan had rarely made allowances for that before, but perhaps he could make one now. It clearly meant a lot to Anakin.

“No,” Anakin said. “That’s not—” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Look, just forget it.”

Something else occurred to Obi-Wan, pricking him with unwelcome jealousy. “So Padmé Amidala is allowed to celebrate your birthday, but I’m not?”

Anakin got up and whirled at him. “This has nothing to do with Padmé.”

“I believe it has everything to do with Padmé,” Obi-Wan said, driven on by Anakin’s defensiveness. “After all, without Padmé, I wouldn’t even know that today was your birthday, let alone that you cared about it.”

“It doesn’t matter if I care about it, because you obviously never would.”

“It’s not the—”

“I _know_ it’s not the Jedi way,” Anakin said. “But neither is our relationship, and I don’t see you complaining about that. Unless you only care about your precious Code when it doesn’t affect you.”

Obi-Wan froze. Anakin glared at him, drawn up to his full height, breathing harshly through his nose. One of them was going to have to back down, before they both got hurt. It looked as though that would have to be Obi-Wan. Anakin wasn’t wrong. Picking and choosing which elements of Jedi doctrine he adhered to was becoming a habit.

“This does affect me,” Obi-Wan said quietly, “because it affects you. If you care that today is your birthday, then I care by default.” He wouldn’t insult Anakin by implying that he’d had a sudden change of heart on the topic. It mattered to him only because it mattered to Anakin.

Anakin began to deflate. Encouraged, Obi-Wan offered his hand. Anakin took it automatically, and followed when Obi-Wan steered him over to the bunk.

Obi-Wan sat down, and released Anakin to pat the space on the mattress next to him. “Come on.” Anakin sat, leaving a hair’s breadth between them. “Talk to me,” Obi-Wan said. If they were to move past this, he needed to know what was going on in Anakin’s head.

“You should get up to the bridge,” Anakin reiterated.

“And you should be with Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said, “but here we are.”

Anakin shook his head and scooted back to lean against the wall. “I gave her the morning off.”

“So you could talk to Padmé, or because…?”

“The second one,” Anakin said. “I just—Padmé meant well, and I’m glad she called, but I just needed to be alone.”

Obi-Wan touched Anakin’s knee. “Would you rather I go?”

“No.” He closed his eyes. “But I don’t want to talk, either.”

“We could—”

“Or meditate,” Anakin added. “Just… let me be.”

Silence on a ship was very different to the silence of a temple, but Obi-Wan embraced it all the same. He found the distant, low hum of engines to be soothing, and hoped that Anakin did too. He wondered how it was that Anakin was so attached to the idea of having a birthday, when it appeared that this was the only way he commemorated it. Loneliness and silence.

As requested, Obi-Wan let him be. It wasn’t something a Jedi could admit to, but Obi-Wan knew that everyone had days when loneliness and silence felt appropriate. Himself included. He’d never let himself wallow, never let himself succumb, but he was well acquainted with the desire. Anakin was strong in so many ways. If he needed this weakness, so be it.

“It isn’t about me,” Anakin said, startling him. “It never has been. I know that’s what you’re worried about, but it’s not like that.”

Obi-Wan moved his left hand to rest on Anakin’s right, knowing he could feel the pressure, if not the sensation. He felt it better not to say anything. If Anakin wanted to elaborate, he would.

He did. “It makes me think of my mother.”

Jedi didn’t have parents. There was no reason for Obi-Wan to have made the connection, but he berated himself anyway. Of course Anakin would think of Shmi Skywalker. Of course he would want to be alone. He was grieving.

“We never had much,” Anakin went on, “but she always made it special. Something good to eat. Some small toy that she’d traded for at the market. I always looked forward to it, and I think she did, too. I know the Jedi don’t do birthdays, but none of you know any different. I bet you don’t even remember when your birthday is.” Obi-Wan did remember, but didn’t say so. “I always remembered. Every year. And it…”

Hearing the catch in Anakin’s voice, Obi-Wan stepped in. “You missed her.”

“Yeah,” he said shakily. Obi-Wan squeezed his hand tightly. “Obviously, it’s been worse since… It never used to be this bad. Padmé knows. She gets it. She calls.”

That hurt, though Obi-Wan knew Anakin didn’t mean it to. That Padmé, who had never known such grief, had been the one to stand with Anakin on this day. It should have been Obi-Wan. It should always have been Obi-Wan.

“I understand,” he said.

Anakin opened his eyes. They were drier than Obi-Wan had expected. Was that an indication that he was coping well, or badly? “You never had parents.”

“I did, actually,” Obi-Wan said. “I was three when I came to the Temple. While I may not remember them, I do know how it feels to lose someone you love.”

“Who?”

“Qui-Gon.”

Anakin shifted. In all their years of friendship, they had spoken little of Qui-Gon. That was an old wound, the oldest of all.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan looked down at their entwined hands. The Padawan he had resented, whose life he shamefully would have traded in an instant for his own Master’s, had somehow become the man to whom he would give the galaxy. “I think I need to,” he said.

Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan took a moment to decide where to begin.

“When Qui-Gon died,” he said, “I couldn’t grieve. Not only because I was a Jedi, and the grief that I felt was a sign of attachment, but because I had you. A Padawan I was far too young and inexperienced to train. I didn’t have time to grieve.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Obi-Wan said sternly. “None of it was your fault, and I won’t have you thinking otherwise. Maul killed Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon entrusted you to me, and the Council upheld his wishes. I agreed to train you, and I don’t for one second regret it. But I do know something of how it is to feel a grief so vast, and never be given so much as a moment to truly _feel_ it.” He took a deep breath. “That’s how it was for you, I know. First Geonosis, then the war. I can understand needing this day, this time, to remember your mother. All I ask is that you allow me to stay with you.”

“Obi-Wan…”

“It helped, in the end,” Obi-Wan continued. “Having you with me. To know that even outside of the force, I was not alone. Whether you want me or not, Anakin, I will be here.”

Anakin gripped his hand. It hurt. Obi-Wan welcomed the pain. He composed himself, and looked up at Anakin, only to find that now he was the one avoiding eye contact.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Anakin said. He shot Obi-Wan a shifty glance, laced with fear.

The grip around his hand became unbearable, and now Obi-Wan realised what Anakin was doing. He wasn’t seeking reassurance, or offering it. He was stopping Obi-Wan from going anywhere. Whatever it was that Anakin had to say, it was bad enough that he feared Obi-Wan’s rejection.

Gently, Obi-Wan prised Anakin’s fingers away, careful not to wince. Anakin watched him, not speaking until Obi-Wan had his hand securely between both of his own.

“After my mother died, I—” Anakin swallowed. “It was like you said. The grief. But I was angry. I was so angry, Obi-Wan, and I…”

Beneath his robes, Obi-Wan weathered a chill. “Anakin, what did you do?”

“I killed them,” Anakin whispered. “The sand people. It was like… something overtook me, something horrible, and dark, and I couldn’t stop until they were dead. All of them. The whole village.”

The silence that had seemed peaceful before was now oppressive, the engine hum a ringing in his ears. The Council’s worst fear, made real.

Anakin had fallen to the dark side.

That he’d crawled back to the light was hopeful, but to have embraced it once, to such a degree, made it probable that he would do it again. Obi-Wan had touched the dark, that terrible day on Naboo. He knew the headiness of the rush, how deep its claws could sink. He would not let it take Anakin. Not his Anakin.

“I know it was wrong,” Anakin said, hoarse.

“Of course it was wrong.” Obi-Wan’s voice shook. “The whole—” He paused. “You slaughtered innocents. Of course it was wrong, Anakin; it doesn’t get much more _wrong_.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Anakin pleaded. “I’m sorry. I never meant for it to happen. I didn’t.”

“You used the dark side. You fell to it, let it control you.” Shock subsided, and Obi-Wan felt horror. Less for what Anakin had done, than for Anakin’s fate. Horror at himself, for putting Anakin above the people he had murdered. He couldn’t help himself. He noticed the whiteness of his knuckles and eased his hold on Anakin, but did not let him go.

Anakin’s breath hitched. “Can you—”

“Can I forgive you? Anakin, it isn’t my place to forgive you. I failed you,” Obi-Wan said, feeling it deep in his being. “You were my Padawan. I was supposed to protect you. To guide you toward the light.”

Anakin finally looked back at him, and now, _now_ his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “No,” he said. “Can you still love me?”

His pitch rose and the tears fell. Anakin broke, harsh sobs forcing themselves from his throat. Part of Obi-Wan broke along with him. He gathered Anakin into his arms and kissed the top of his head.

“Anakin,” he said, his heart in his voice. “I will _always_ love you.”

If it were possible, Anakin cried harder, throwing all his weight onto Obi-Wan and pressing his face into Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan held him close and rocked him. His own eyes prickled, but he could not have said who he wept for. The dead, the lost one, or the man who loved him. Perhaps he was the most lost of all.

Any other Jedi would be furious. Would have Anakin dragged before the Council and expelled from the Order. Another Jedi would relinquish their betrayal and failure to the force, just as they would discard any lingering attachment to a former student who had gone so far astray. Luckily for Anakin, Obi-Wan was not such a Jedi.

There was good in Anakin. So much good. He was the Chosen One, the one who would bring an end to darkness. Qui-Gon had trusted Obi-Wan to help Anakin fulfil the prophecy. This was Obi-Wan’s failure, and Obi-Wan would correct it. Where he had failed as a Master, he would succeed as an equal, as a partner. He would stand at Anakin’s side and keep him on the path of the light. In plaiting Anakin’s Padawan braid, they had woven their destinies together, and Obi-Wan would not abandon him, even if he could.

“What you did was wrong,” he told Anakin, continuing to rock him. “But the fact that you know it was wrong, that you regret it, tells me that you are not yet lost.”

Anakin nodded against his neck, struggling to make his lungs work properly. Obi-Wan rubbed his back and placed Anakin’s hand against his chest. He focused on his breathing. Gradually, Anakin’s fell into line. Obi-Wan felt them both begin to calm.

“If any Jedi tells you that they have never heard the call of the dark side,” Obi-Wan said softly, “they are lying. We all have.” He stroked Anakin’s hair as he quietened. “The reason that we remain Jedi is that we have learned to resist. And so must you.”

He manoeuvred Anakin away from him, leaving one arm around his waist. Anakin rested against it, eyes red and downcast.

“What if I can’t?” Anakin asked, hollow.

“Then I would love you anyway,” Obi-Wan said, “but I would have failed you, utterly.”

Anakin looked up at him with pure misery. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” Obi-Wan traced the scar on the side of Anakin’s face. “You are strong, Anakin, not just in the ways of the force. And you have a kind heart. I have no doubt that you can do it. Therefore, if you fail, the fault must lie with me.”

Anakin grabbed his hand. “Obi-Wan, _no_. You can’t—I’m not your responsibility. My actions are mine, and mine alone.” He looked beseechingly at Obi-Wan, who forced himself to smile.

“You are my responsibility, Anakin,” he said.

“I’m not your Padawan anymore,” Anakin said. “Even if I was back then, you didn’t choose me. And you weren’t with me. I killed those people, not you.”

Obi-Wan hushed Anakin before he started crying again. “I should have been with you,” he said, “and I wasn’t. I would have stopped you.”

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

“No, but I scarcely think that matters now. What does matter is that I will not let you fall again.” He pulled Anakin close once more. “You are my responsibility, Anakin, because I _want_ you to be.”

He felt Anakin slowly wrap his arms around his shoulders. Hot breath swept across his ear.

“Okay,” Anakin whispered.

“Okay to what?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I don’t know. Everything? Anything? I don’t—” He sniffed. “I didn’t think you would…”

Obi-Wan angled his head toward Anakin’s and kissed the scar. “I know.”

They held on to each other. Obi-Wan wondered what Anakin was thinking. His own thoughts were surprisingly ordered. It was impossible to sit on the Council and remain immune to the notion that Anakin would fall. Somehow, he had foreseen that a day like this would come; that he would have to learn of Anakin’s dark deeds, or step in to prevent them. The reality was hard. It was not something that he and Anakin could blithely push past. This day would stay with them, would colour their relationship from that moment forward.

Yet, they would move forward. Obi-Wan had had time to prepare for this. Years to decide whether, should it come down to it, he would choose Anakin or the Jedi. He had been granted a reprieve from that choice, and he was thankful. This day could have been so much worse.

It was Anakin who had not been prepared. Or, rather, he had been: for Obi-Wan to reject him.

“My love for you is not conditional, Anakin,” he murmured against Anakin’s jaw. He edged back to gaze into Anakin’s eyes, to make him understand. Anakin had to trust him, to be open with him, or there was little Obi-Wan could do to save them. “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you.”

Anakin looked unconvinced. “You can’t promise that.”

“I think you’ll find I just did,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin pursed his lips, and Obi-Wan kissed them lightly. “Have a little faith.”

“What if I became a Sith?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan sensed the underlying fear. Anakin was afraid of himself, of the dark and what he could do in it.

“Then you would no longer be you,” Obi-Wan assured him, “and I doubt you would care.” He bowed his head. “But yes. I believe I would still love you.”

Cool metal touched his cheek. He leaned into it. Anakin kissed him, tentative at first, then deepening. Obi-Wan cupped the base of Anakin’s skull and kissed him back.

They broke apart, though not far.

“Thank you,” Anakin murmured. “I don’t deserve it, but…”

“It’s not about what you or I deserve,” Obi-Wan said. “And you did not make me love you, any more than you could force me to hate you.” He smiled. “Please don’t take that as a challenge.”

“I won’t,” Anakin said. He sat back and wiped his face in his sleeve. “You really should get to the bridge. Otherwise someone’s going to come looking for you, and—”

“You’re afraid one of your men will see their General looking a complete mess?” Obi-Wan clasped Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin was trying hard to make it appear that he was okay, but Obi-Wan saw through the fragile illusion. “I hate to disappoint you, dear one, but I’ve already fulfilled this ship’s gossip quota for the day.” He glanced down at his new black boots.

Anakin gave a wet laugh. “More like the week.” He flexed his metal fingers. “You should go, though.”

Obi-Wan brushed soft tendrils of hair from Anakin’s eyes. No, Anakin was very far from okay. “And miss spending time with you on your birthday?”

Anakin’s fingers stilled. “There’s a war on,” he said quietly.

“We’ll be in hyperspace for hours. If you want me here, I’ll stay,” Obi-Wan said. “If you don’t, then I will go. But either way, you need to be ready to train with Ahsoka this afternoon. She’s your Padawan, and training her is part of being a Jedi.”

“You still trust me with her?”

“Yes.”

Anakin licked his lips, digesting Obi-Wan’s true meaning. He was still a Jedi. “Alright. I’ll be ready.”

“Good man.” Obi-Wan waited, but Anakin didn’t speak or move. He leaned forward, halting inches from Anakin’s face. “Anakin,” he said gently, “I need to know what you want me to do.”

Anakin’s eyes closed, lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. He reached for Obi-Wan’s hand. “Stay. Please.”

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead, breathing in engine oil and carbon and soap. All the things that were Anakin. He didn’t know what the future held for Anakin, for either of them. Couldn’t know if he would succeed, or if the war would send Anakin to a place where Obi-Wan could no longer reach him. Still, despite it all, Anakin was what he had always been. A Jedi. His friend, and his heart.

He would stay.

**Author's Note:**

> The day may come when I cease to write Obikin fics and actually do some work, but it is not this day. Tomorrow doesn't look good either. 
> 
> I get weirdly anxious about replying to comments, but I really do appreciate them so much, and I'm trying to get better at it!


End file.
